


Take What You Want to Take

by coricomile



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: "Can I, like, tie you up?" Mitch asks. Matt pauses, still bent over the dishwasher, which is a great view. Matt's ass is highly underrated.





	Take What You Want to Take

Matt is surprisingly sweet. Maybe surprising isn't the right word- he's always been a friendly guy, always been more likely to laugh than to yell- but Mitch hadn't expected Matt to be a flowers and candles kind of guy. It's weird, a little. No one else has ever given him flowers except, like, the time he was in the hospital for pneumonia. They die pretty quick- Mitch barely remembers to water himself, let alone something he only sees maybe once a week- but it's the thought that counts. 

It's sweet, _Matt's_ sweet, and it opens up a tiny, ugly pit in Mitch's chest that wants to just completely ruin him. 

It's hilarious to think about, even on his own. Matt's _huge_ and can and has lifted Mitch with one arm, which Mitch had been super into at the time. There's no way Mitch is ever going to get the upper hand unless Matt chooses to give it to him. Maybe that's what makes it so hot, Mitch thinks as he watches Matt load the dishwasher. All that muscle and strength held in place under him for no other reason than because Mitch wants it.

"Can I, like, tie you up?" Mitch asks. Matt pauses, still bent over the dishwasher, which is a great view. Matt's ass is highly underrated. 

"You can barely tie your shoelaces," Matt says. He presses the complicated order of buttons to make the dishwasher start and wipes his hands off on his jeans. He did his hair even though it's just the two of them, but a curl near his temple has come loose and Mitch wants to mess the rest up to match. 

"That was one time!" Mitch had been spectacularly plastered off vodka cranberries and bending forward had been _way_ too hard, especially since Matt had been next to him and already sitting. "Whatever, you like that I'm a walking mess. It gets all those mommy genes going." Matt snorts and shakes his head. It's fucking rude, is what it is. 

"Yeah, whatever you say, Mitchy," Matt says. He doesn't look put off by the tying up thing, but Mitch is pretty sure it isn't going to happen, which sucks. "Watch a little less porn, eh?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Mitch says, waving it off. Matt's the one with the filthy shit on his laptop, not him. Who bookmarks their porn, anyway? That's what Google is for. "What, do you think I can't do it? Or do you, like-" He shrugs, which is supposed to mean both _do you not like the idea of it at all_ and _do you not like the idea with me specifically_ , but it's not like he's going to say either of those out _loud_.

28 isn't that much older than 20, not really, but Matt has his shit together in a way that Mitch still can't fathom. He lives on his own and pays his own bills- well, he set up the autopay on all of his own bills, which is close enough- and has been on a personal mission to teach Mitch how to cook more than eggs and spaghetti since day one. He _woodworked_ stuff over the summer. Matt's got his shit together, but he still buys Mitch flowers and takes him to movies and sleeps with him on a regular basis. It's got to mean something. 

"What, you serious?" Matt asks. 

"Maybe?" Mitch is twitching on his stool, tapping his thumbs against the granite island. He's never been great about sitting still in the best of circumstances and he probably just talked himself into a weird, awkward corner and is going to have to talk _more_ to get out of it. Matt looks at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. "Forget it, man. Did you get Fortnite yet?"

They play Fortnite on the couch, Mitch half in Matt's lap, bickering about character selection even as they tear the level up. Mitch had always thought date nights had to be, like, going out on the town and doing big, romantic shit all the time, but he thinks he likes Matt's version of a date better. They makeout during cutscenes and Matt doesn't complain when Mitch climbs between his legs and settles back against his chest. He just holds his controller against Mitch's stomach instead and rests his chin on Mitch's shoulder. 

It's pretty awesome. 

Eventually, he does have to go back home. Matt walks him to the door and helps him put his coat and scarf on. He thinks maybe he should feel like his masculinity is being questioned or something, but Matt seems to like doing it and Mitch is never, ever going to complain about Matt touching him. 

"Do some research before you tie me up, eh?" Matt says when he opens the door. Mitch goes from vaguely sleepy to alert in half a second. Matt grins. What an asshole. "I need my hands."

"Oh my god, you _dick_ ," Mitch sputters. "You held out on me all night!"

"A little mystery is good for a relationship," Matt says. He kisses Mitch one more time before shoving him out onto the front porch. "See you tomorrow." 

No one has ever called Mitch studious, but he can totally research when he wants something. Especially if that research involves porn. 

\---

His first couple of tries are kind of terrifying if he's being honest. The guys are grossly ripped and sweaty and bald and wearing a lot of leather, none of which is attractive in any way at all. Also, there seems to be a lot of hitting and cringy dirty talk involved, which isn't really what Mitch is looking for. 

Eventually he has to admit to himself that porn was a bust. 

Instead, he looks up knots, which seems like a better place to start. He could technically go buy rope or something without it looking weird. There's lots of non-kinky stuff he could be doing with it, but that's not quite what he wants either. Rope feels a little too hardcore, and novelty handcuffs seem too ridiculous for even him. Ties, he figures, are the just right middle in his weird Goldilocks search for the right bondage tool. 

So, he looks up knots and buys three shitty ties in Leafs blue and practices on spare hockey sticks. They're not quite a good replacement for Matt's wrists, but they'll have to be good enough. He only ruins one tie, which he's counting as a win, but every time he looks at them he thinks about Matt under him, hands up over his head, and gets a stiffy. That's less of a win, but whatever. Can't win everything. 

He brings his two surviving ties to Matt's house on the next date night. It's not like he's expecting it to happen, but he wants to be prepared if it does. Matt hasn't said anything else about it, but he's started wearing a black, braided bracelet that Mitch has never seen before. It looks almost dainty and has been driving Mitch up the fucking wall. 

"You're helping me cook," Matt says after Mitch has taken off his coat and hung it up. 

"Hi, honey," Mitch says, voice pitched up, trailing after Matt towards the kitchen. "How was your day?"

"I saw you three hours ago," Matt says. He looks back over his shoulder, face clearly unimpressed. He's terrible, but his hotness more than makes up for it. "I _was_ your day." 

"The romance is already dead." Mitch shoves his sleeves up and ignores the knot of the ties in his pocket. He might not be good at cooking, but he likes sharing the kitchen space as Matt bosses him around. It reminds him of his parents, endlessly bickering over which knives to use and how much pepper was too much pepper. "What are we making?"

"Curry. You're on chopping duty." 

"I'm always on chopping duty," Mitch whines. 

"When you don't burn everything, you can graduate to stove duty." Matt kisses Mitch's cheek before shoving an onion at him. "Chop."

Matt lets Mitch plug his phone into the speaker setup on the counter and choose the music. The kitchen is big and modern and full of lots of expensive surfaces, but Matt's never seemed to care about the messes Mitch makes or the occasional slip of the knife that leaves notches in the counters. When Mitch is feeling particularly sappy- which is never, because he is a manly man with no gooey feelings- he likes to think about how he's leaving his mark permanently on Matt's place. Literally. 

When everything that's supposed to go into the pan goes into the pan, Matt backs Mitch up against the counter and sets his hands on Mitch's hips, his bracelet dangling loose off his wrist. Mitch hooks a finger into it and tugs. It's surprisingly sturdy. 

"Hi, honey," Matt says, grinning. Jesus, his eyes are so blue. "How was your day?" 

"Oh my god." Mitch kisses him around his laughter. 

They makeout until the curry is done, and eventually relocate to the living room to eat. Matt's a good cook, and Mitch is banking on using him for his food for the rest of his life or until Matt realizes he can do better than a tweaky kid with a big mouth. Whichever one comes first. He's really, really hoping it's the first one. 

"So," Mitch says around a mouthful of rice. "Research. I did it."

"Chew with your mouth closed, you animal." Matt kicks him and Mitch chews as obnoxiously as he can. "You're disgusting."

"You love it," Mitch says. He thinks that Matt actually does. Mitch isn't the only weirdo in this relationship. "So?"

"Eat your dinner, and if you're very, very nice-"

"I'm always nice!"

Mitch does his best not to wolf down the rest of his food, but Matt still laughs at him and goes back to the kitchen to bring out dessert. It's peach cobbler- Mitch's favorite- and it's amazing because Matt somehow knows all the best places in Toronto, but the bracelet keeps catching Mitch's attention and the ties are burning a hole in his pocket. Patience has never been his strong suit. 

"I think I need a nap," Matt says after they've finished. He leans back against the back of the couch, resting the arm with the bracelet over his forehead like a dramatic fainting damsel. He closes his eyes and stretches, his shirt pulling tight over his chest. 

"Oh my god, you're the _worst_." Mitch throws himself over Matt and bites his shoulder through his henley. If Matt keeps taunting him, he'll actually pop. 

"What?" Matt curls his arm over Mitch's back and spreads his fingers over the span of it. "You want to be in charge. So. Be in charge."

"Go to the bedroom," Mitch tries. It mostly sounds like a question, and he can feel the little huff of Matt's laughter against his cheek and under his stomach. 

"You gotta get up," he says. Mitch scrambles to his feet, nearly toppling over the coffee table in his haste. Matt stretches one more time before rolling off the couch and heading towards the stairs. "You coming?"

"God I hope so." 

When they get into the bedroom, Mitch does his best to climb Matt like a tree. There isn't a huge height difference between them, but Matt's so much broader than him that sometimes Mitch forgets. He doesn't quite jump him, but he does wrap as much of himself around Matt as he can and kisses him, chasing the sugar sweet taste that's still clinging to his lips. 

"Get naked," Mitch says against Matt's jaw. His skin is smooth, freshly shaved, and Mitch's chest goes a little tight. He'd gladly throw himself at Matt even if he was in his grungiest clothes, unshowered, and fuzzy as a bear, but Matt always makes an effort to look nice for him if they've got plans. For all the talk about him being nothing more than a goon, he's probably more thoughtful than anyone Mitch has ever met. 

Matt takes a step back and pulls his henley off, tossing it toward the hamper. He's slow unbuckling his belt, even slower undoing all four buttons of his slacks. Mitch grabs the ties from his pocket and shoves his own pants off. He holds off on his shirt, not wanting to block his view of Matt carefully stepping out of his slacks and then slowly pushing his briefs down. His cock is chubbed up, not quite hard yet, but at least he's interested. He turns a full circle, letting Mitch get a good look at all of him, and Mitch yanks off his shirt. 

"Lay down," Mitch says. 

Each command is easier than the one before it. Matt isn't arguing with him, isn't pushing back, isn't laughing at Mitch's inexperience. He turns around again and crawls onto the bed, his ass on full, glorious display, and Mitch has a moment of indecision. He could definitely spend all night with Matt's ass, but he also wants to see Matt's face. It's a good face. 

Matt makes the choice easy when he lays down on his back, his thighs spread open a little, completely unselfconscious. Mitch is cool with getting naked in front of twenty plus dudes on a regular basis, and sometimes media people if he's really in a rush to get to the shower, but there's something about one-on-one nakedness that still makes him a little squirmy. He'll eventually fill out. He'll eventually lose the baby fat that's still clinging to his face and stomach, no matter how much time he spends training. He's cute. He knows he's cute. But Matt- Matt is textbook, capital H hot and sometimes it's hard not to feel a little inferior in the face of that. 

Mitch leaves his briefs on. He doesn't think he can handle his bare dick touching any part of Matt just yet. He straddles Matt's stomach and guides his arms up over his head. That fucking bracelet slides down over his forearm, stark against his skin. When he lets go, Matt keeps his arms just where Mitch put them. 

Mitch wraps one tie around Matt's wrists, carefully overlapping each loop and laying the fabric flat against his skin, hiding the bracelet under it. He knots it loosely under the join of Matt's thumbs and threads the second tie through the little gap between Matt's palms. Matt's headboard doesn't have slats, but it has decorative cutouts and those are going to have to work. Mitch leans up and over and wraps the ends of the tie through one of them and back around before knotting it, too. 

He rolls off to the side and just looks for a minute. Matt's arms are lifted a bit off the mattress, his biceps showing just a little strain, the muscles hard and present. The blue suits him. It always does. Mitch runs a hand down Matt's forearm, over his bicep and down to his wide, wide chest. He can feel the tiny skip in Matt's breath, can feel the slight uptick in the beat of his heart. 

It's not like Matt talks a lot when they're having sex, but he's almost totally silent now, none of his usual teasing at Mitch's eagerness or quiet instructions that somehow always make things go from good to fucking awesome. Mitch doesn't know if he likes it or not. It all feels so serious. 

"You look good like this," Mitch says to fill the silence. He rubs his thumb over Matt's nipple until it peaks then moves on to the other one. He doesn't know what to do now that they're here. 

If Mitch is good at anything, though, it's winging it. He leans up to kiss Matt's wrist, right under the place where the tie is holding it, and slides his lips down, following the path he'd made with his fingers. He nips at the tender skin inside Matt's elbow and feels more centered when Matt laughs a little, his arm twitching under Mitch's mouth. 

Mitch kisses his way over Matt's chest, down to his stomach. He lingers over Matt's abs, tracing the fine lines of them with the tip of his tongue. They're amazing, even when Matt isn't flexing, all solid, hard muscle that jumps when Mitch hits a ticklish spot. If there wasn't still the thread of seriousness hanging between them, Mitch would exploit it. It's not like Matt can fight back against it right now. Instead, he moves on to the sharp cut of Matt's hip, sinking his teeth in.

Matt's cock arches up off his belly, brushing against Mitch's cheek. Mitch flattens his palm over it and holds it down as he sucks a hickey right under Matt's belly button. The guys will give the both of them shit for it- Naz in particular loves to make fun of Mitch's sex life because he's a loser that doesn't have one of his own- but Matt has never once shown anything like shame about everyone knowing they're banging. If anything, Mitch thinks as he pulls away to look at his handiwork, Matt almost seems proud sometimes. 

What a weirdo. 

Matt still hasn't said anything or really made any noise outside of some shaky, deep breaths, but his dick is hard under Mitch's hand. It's weird not having him touch back, but it's also easier to focus on all the little places of his body that Mitch has never been able to take the time to notice before. Mitch's own cock is trying its best to drill a hole into his briefs, but he doesn't feel the usual rush to have Matt get him off as soon as possible. It's a lot of mixed signals all at once. 

"Everything okay?" Mitch asks, peeking up at Matt's face. If it's not they can take the ties off and just forget the whole thing. It's not like Mitch isn't overwhelmingly thrilled with their usual sex. 

"You're doing good, Mitchy," Matt says. If his hands were free, he'd probably have one on Mitch's cheek, or maybe in his hair. They aren't, though, so Mitch settles on rubbing his cheek on Matt's thick, hard thigh. It's not quite the same, but it's still comforting. "Whatever you want, eh?"

Mitch _wants_ everything. He wants to sit on Matt's chest and feed him his dick. He wants to keep exploring his way around Matt's body. He wants to suck Matt off until the weird quietness goes away. But mostly, he thinks he wants Matt to fuck him. Matt's cock isn't long, but it's wide, the head flared just enough that it always hurts a little when it first goes in, no matter how relaxed Mitch is. 

"Okay," Mitch says, mostly to himself. "Okay." He kisses the little hickey one more time before crawling to the side of the bed with the night stand and pulling out the lube. It's an awkward struggle to get out of his briefs, made even more awkward by Matt's bright eyes trained on him. He tosses them to the floor and straddles Matt's stomach again. 

Mitch leans down to kiss him as he uncaps the lube. It's both because he really, really likes kissing Matt, and also because he feels squirmy and uncomfortable with the idea of Matt watching him. It's been a long time since he's fingered himself- Matt seems to enjoy doing it and it's _always_ better having someone else's hands on him than his own- but needs must and all that. It's an awkward angle and his knuckles brush over Matt's stomach as he slides the first finger in. 

His breath hitches against Matt's lips as he tugs at his rim. He can feel the moment Matt tries to touch him, the way his shoulders pull tight against the ties. It's the first time he's fought it and a thrill shoots up Mitch's spine. He sucks at Matt's lower lip and carefully presses a second finger into himself. His hips jerk- he's going too fast, but Matt's always been the one to slow him down and he can't do that right now- and the damp tip of Matt's cock slides over the back of his thigh. 

When Mitch pulls back- just a little, just to see- the blue of Matt's eyes has been almost swallowed up by black. His hair has come loose of the gel and curls around his temples, haloing out around his face. Mitch twists his wrist and whines. He's not proud to admit that he jerked off a few times to photos of Matt before they'd even met, back in the mullet days. Somehow, he just keeps getting hotter and hotter. In five years, Mitch might just burn up looking at him. 

"Fuck." Mitch pulls his fingers out and reaches for the lube again. He pauses before shuffling back, letting Matt's cock slide between his asscheeks. Matt's head tips back against the pillow, his hands folding together. It almost looks like he's praying. 

Mitch doesn't particularly like going slowly. He's twitchy and has a lot of energy stored up that he always wants to blow through as fast as possible. If Matt's feeling particularly generous, he'll get Mitch off hard and fast and then take his sweet time until Mitch is hard all over again, ready to beg for whatever Matt is willing to give him. Like this though, without the distraction of Matt touching him, it's a little easier to push back the frantic urge to blow. Matt needs _him_ if he wants to get off. This, Mitch thinks as he dumps lube into his palm, is exactly what he wanted. 

Matt hisses when Mitch slicks him up, his cock jerking in Mitch's hand. His jaw clenches when Mitch lines the head up and slowly, so slowly, sinks down to take the it in. Mitch's thighs shake as he holds himself still, his breath speeding up as he wills himself to open up around it. He plants his free hand on Matt's chest and lets gravity do the work for him, sinking down all the way. It feels overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once, and Matt has to feel it too because his silence has finally broken. 

"Shit, yeah," Matt says, his voice hoarse. The headboard groans as he pulls against the ties. Mitch reaches up to run his nails over Matt's bunched biceps, feeling all that trapped strength. He feels powerful and sort of humble. He grinds his hips in a slow circle, looking for the right spot, and Matt thrusts up against him, sending sparks through Mitch's whole body. 

"Stay-" Mitch digs his fingers into the hard, tense muscles of Matt's forearms. "Shit. Stay still."

Matt groans but stops moving. His whole body is buzzing, but he stays still as Mitch lifts himself up and drops back down, testing one angle and then another. He's ridden Matt before- once, memorably, on the armchair in the living room, which had promptly buckled under both of their weights- but usually Matt's over him, driving him crazy. Matt always seems to know how to get him just right. It's either his experience showing, or Mitch is just easy for it. It's hard to tell. 

It takes him a couple of minutes to find the right angle, but when he does Mitch swears and rocks himself against Matt's dick, shallow little pulses of his hips that drag his balls over Matt's stomach and pushes the fat head of Matt's cock right on his sweet spot. He gets a little lost in it, fucking himself with Matt's cock like it's some sort of toy. 

His fingers slip on Matt's arms and his hands catch on the ties holding him in place. Mitch squeezes Matt's wrists once before letting go and sitting up. It drives Matt's cock deeper into him and he has to get his hand on his own dick or die. No one's ever going to give him an award for his stamina, but he's still young enough that his refractory period is basically non-existent. He likes to think it balances everything out. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Mitch squeezes Matt's hips with his thighs and sits still, jerking himself off hard and fast. Matt is red in the face, his hair totally fucked, his eyes wide and dark and _watching_. "I'm gonna come. Don't- Hang on I'm not- I'm not done. Don't-" He hopes Matt understands what he means, because words are quickly becoming something he can't accomplish. He gives one more grind and comes all over Matt's tight abs.

"Mitch-" Matt yanks against the ties, but Mitch did his homework and he did it well. The knots hold, and Matt's kept helpless. 

"Holy shit," Mitch says when he remembers how to breathe. He pushes his sweaty hair off his face with his clean hand and then does to the same to Matt's. "Oh my god."

"Come on," Matt says, turning his head to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to Mitch's wrist. "Please." And if that isn't a sucker punch right to the gut, Mitch doesn't know what is. 

He has to go slow, more for the sake of his tender ass than anything else. He trades the dirty grind that had made him see stars for carefully lifting himself up until the flare of the head of Matt's cock catches on his rim and then sinking back down. It's taxing on his already shaky thighs, and every time his half-chub rubs through the mess of his own come he shivers. It's worth it though for the way Matt's looking at him, for the sounds Matt can't quite bite back. 

By the time Mitch is hard again, Matt's trembling enough that Mitch can feel it all over. If it were him there being told not to move at all, he would have broken forever ago. Mitch considers taking it back- god, he could really, _really_ go for Matt fucking him stupid right now- but he likes this, too. Matt is just- he's letting Mitch use him, letting Mitch take him over totally, and that is- it's indescribable. He doesn't take back the no-movement clause, but he does speed up as much as he can, bracing himself against Matt's chest. It's almost too much, but Mitch has never once met a challenge he didn't run headfirst into. 

"Fuck, okay, you gotta come," Mitch says. He wants to kiss Matt again, wants to distract himself from the shocky waves of sensation that are threatening to completely wipe his brain. " _Matt_." Matt's hips thrust up- technically against the rules, but Mitch doesn't give a single fuck anymore- and he yanks at the ties, thrashing like he'll be able to break free. Mitch kind of wants him to break free. He doesn't, but he makes a throaty, low sound when he finally comes that goes directly to Mitch's dick. 

When he's settled down, Mitch climbs off of him with wobbly legs and knee-walks his way to the head of the bed. Matt's eyes are hooded, his mouth half open, chest heaving as he sucks in deep breaths. He looks completely and totally ruined, and _Mitch_ did that. Mitch thinks, briefly, of sliding his cock between Matt's slack lips, but he doesn't have the patience and there's just one last thing to add to make Matt look like the absolute best sort of real life porn. 

"Come on, Mitchy," Matt rasps, his tongue sliding over his lower lip. Mitch can barely stand to look at him, but he forces himself to keep his eyes open as he strips his cock, coming weakly over Matt's jaw and cheek. And that- that is going to be the image Mitch jerks off to until the day he dies. 

"You really had to go for the face shot?" Matt asks as Mitch carefully wipes him off with a corner of the sheet. He's grinning though, his body finally gone lax. 

"Yes," Mitch says as he fights the knot of the tie around Matt's wrists with numb fingers. It's been pulled tighter from Matt yanking on it, but Mitch eventually gets it undone and carefully unwraps it, checking Matt's skin as he goes. It's a little pink, but there doesn't seem to be any damage. He leaves the ties hanging from the headboard and finally lets himself collapse. "Holy shit."

"Come on," Matt says softly, stretching his arms out to the side and circling his shoulders for a moment. He turns onto his side and holds a hand out. "Come here." Mitch flops into him, pressing his face into the sweaty hollow of Matt's neck. "You did good." Matt rubs his hand down over Mitch's spine, soothing him. 

"Shouldn't I be the one doing the aftercare shit?" Mitch asks. It comes out muffled against Matt's skin, but Mitch genuinely thinks he won't be able to move for at least another ten minutes. 

"You already did enough," Matt says. It sounds fond and sweet, and Mitch doesn't need to look up to know he's smiling. "I guess you can keep watching porn." Mitch snorts. 

"I'm gonna look up some really weird shit for next time," he says. He yawns and wraps himself around Matt as best he can. "It was good though?" 

"It was good," Matt says. He kisses the top of Mitch's head and Mitch closes his eyes. He wants to sleep for a week, but he also wants to be awake for what are promising to be really amazing cuddles. "Take a nap and we'll talk about it when you wake up.

"Sure," Mitch mumbles, already dropping off. He hooks his fingers into Matt's bracelet and yawns again. "S'good."

**Author's Note:**

> This was titled bbdom!Mitch in my WIP folder . Pls, I need more people writing curious about being in charge Mitch and willing to go along with his boo Matt. Pls. I beg.
> 
> Also feel free to join me on [Tumblr](http://notyourlovesong.tumblr.com).


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